The Sour Side
by FemaleSpock
Summary: Artegor doesn't believe in soulmates; he learns his lesson the hard way. Aarch/Artegor; magick AU.
1. Chapter 1: Darkness

The Sour Side

Chapter 1: Darkness

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction. **

_He wakes in darkness- that's nothing strange, it is night. But there's something different about this- the darkness looks textured and there's the smell, like charred flesh. He's only smelt that once before and it's a stench he'll never forget. His legs feel cramped and he wants to run but he feels too afraid to even move- even to breath. He can feel the slow drip of sweat on his brow, feeling feverish and powerless to resist. He wants to shut his eyes but they're open, glassy and blank. He swears he sees something move; lurch closer, until the smell- the taste is almost too much to bear. And then it's gone. His eyes frantically search the room for it; it's so hard to tell with the lack of light. He can't see it; it seems to have gone for good. After a while he falls back to sleep and when he wakes he feels different. He had been sure it was real then but now he wonders whether it had all been a dream. _

_His father asks him why he is not paying attention- his tutor had told on him; he'd been looking out of the window instead of paying attention to the intricacies of magickal theory. He doesn't want to tell his father so he doesn't. His mother catches him sleeping on the library floor. She asks him why he is tired; he tells her. She tells him it was nothing, that he should go be a good boy and make up the work he missed out on this morning. He nods and walks slowly out of the room; he doesn't run, he knows she is watching. He tries to do as she says but his mind keeps wandering- he's dreading going to bed for fear of what might be coming. That evening, when he's meant to be asleep, he hears his parents arguing again. He can't tell over what; he can't quite make their words out, he never can. He tries to sleep and eventually he does. He doesn't see it again- except in his dreams. _

_He is Artegor Nexus; he is eight. _

Eight years later…

He opened his eyes. Today was the day; his sixteenth birthday. He lay in bed for a moment, allowing himself a moment of calm before it all begun. He traced the patterns on the ceiling with his eyes, knowing that this would be the last time he'd see them for a while. He couldn't say he'd miss them. He glanced at the clock; it was seven-thirty- he wasn't leaving until midday. He wondered what he should do until then, his things were all packed (he'd done that weeks ago) and the wait seemed almost unbearable now- the time seem to stretch the closer he got. The weeks leading up to this had felt like months, the past couple of days like years- these hours felt even longer than that even.

Frustrated, he pushed his covers aside and swiftly got out of bed. He went to the mirror and looked at his reflection, flattening his hair a little with his hands. He dressed, trying to make it take as long as possible to fill the time- but even that didn't last long (he'd already picked what he was going to wear in advance too). He went back to the mirror and fussed for a little while longer over his hair.

After a little while, he heard a knock on his door. He groaned internally, that would be his father come to give him a farewell speech. A little thrill of pleasure ran through him as he remembered that soon he wouldn't have to put up with this any longer. His father would send letters, when he remembered to, but that didn't mean Artegor had to read them. Resigning himself to this last trial, he opened to door to his father.

Neither of them smiled or said anything by way of greeting. Artegor went and sat down on the bed; his father strode into the room but remained standing up, blocking out the light and leaving Artegor sat in his shadow.

"This is a big day for you, son."

Artegor nodded by way of response. That they could both agree on.

"I know that you will make us proud," he said, barely disguising the threat contained within his words. Artegor tried not to smirk at the old man's failure of an attempt at subtlety- he hated it when Artegor smirked. Ignoring Artegor's apparent lack of response, he continued, in the way he was wont to do. "I won't be there to see you leave, I have to leave myself- business."

Artegor nodded at the word 'business' like he was supposed to. That one word was his father's explanation for almost everything.

"I want to make sure you remember what I told you."

This was the part where Artegor was expected to speak. Bored, he rattled off everything his father had ever told him in the past few weeks- that he should keep out of trouble, that he should sure to associate with the Blackwell's boy and the Stone's girl, that he should avoid so and so. He recited it almost perfectly that spoke more to the amount of times his father had said it than to Artegor's (admittedly pretty good) memory.

"That's it then," his father said, briskly. "I shall see you at some point in the spring."

"Goodbye," Artegor said, watching his father walk away. He wasn't sure if he had heard but either way, he gave no response.

Artegor shrugged, at least some time had passed- although not nearly as much as it had felt like.

A few hours passed and it was finally time to leave. His mother was there to see him off, her face set and stoic.

"Be good," she said, and Artegor could swear that he saw the beginnings of a tear well in his mother's eye. He pretended he couldn't see it; he was going and nothing could change his mind. Besides, he knew the real reason that she was getting upset and he'd already decided that he wouldn't feel guilty over that.

He nods.

"I'll write to you." Artegor probably wouldn't burn those letters.

"I'll write back," he conceded. He kissed her cheek before crossing the threshold out of the house- the walls almost seemed to shudder as he left, as if resisting his abandonment of them. He wouldn't miss the creaking and shifts of the old house at all.

He climbed up onto the carriage where his bags were already loaded. He looked back at his mother standing in the doorway, full tears now streaming down her cheeks. He turned his face away and tried to think only of what was ahead of him as they drove him away.

**That's it for this chapter! Usually when I write AUs, I do the type where it's based on one event being changed and how it affects everything else (I'll still be drawing on stuff that went down in canon though), but this idea was just too fun for me resist. Naturally, more information about magick and how it all works in this universe will appear in later chapters (I didn't just want to info dump it all). Aarch will also be making his entrance in the next chapter, yay! Please review; I appreciate all feedback.**


	2. Chapter 2: Hatred

The Sour Side

Chapter 2: Hatred

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction. **

His quarters at the Academy didn't creak. It wasn't the first thing he had noticed upon arrival but it was the thing he thought about most often. He hadn't even really noticed at first, not consciously. He'd found it hard to sleep those first few nights; he'd heard that adjusting to a new place could be hard- he'd never slept anywhere but his parents' house before. It had taken him a few days before he had realised what it was that was bothering him- it was the silence.

There were other things that had changed too; he was skilled enough (and well trained enough) that he wasn't the absolute bottom of the group when he joined, but there was still a lot for him to learn. He wasn't going to settle for being mediocre. A name could get you into this place easily enough (some of his peers seemed have very little but a name) but only very small handful were taken on as apprentices. He wanted to be in that handful. He was going to be a master himself one day.

He was learning things here that the books in his library back 'home' didn't even mention, things his tutor didn't have the skill to master. His mind, his magick was opening up more than ever before; he'd perform spells that would leave his skin buzzing for an hour afterwards.

Of course not everything was perfect. Magickal Theory was as boring as ever; last time around they got a long lecture on the 'soulmate concept.' Artegor had never been as bored in all his time at the Academy as during that class; it all just seemed like superstition and wishful thinking to him. Everyone else seemed to be lapping it up though; various 'almost couples' kept eyeing each other across the room during the entire thing- look up, eyes meet, look down, look up again…It was the same dance for the entirety of the hour. It was enough to make to make Artegor want to slash his own throat.

He really didn't see the appeal of any of it anyway; he still spent most of his time alone, that much hadn't changed with the move to the Academy. He had made acquaintances (making sure to steer clear of everyone his father than recommend he associate with) but he hadn't really made friends. That was fine: he wasn't really looking for any.

He settled in to a routine, getting better and better, climbing towards the top of the pack. Then everything changed…

It was just an ordinary day; he was sitting in class, listening to one of their instructors talk about levitating objects with precision. He watched, intrigued, as the teacher kept two pieces of cloth held in the air, controlling a needle so that the two slowly became stitched together.

Then, a creaking sound and a tiny, almost imperceptible rush of cold air as the door opened. The pieces of cloth dropped onto the ground, the needle making a slight noise at it fell. Nobody was looking at that though, everyone's attention was firmly on the boy who had come striding through the door, Artegor included. He was strikingly tall.

He didn't have a reason, he didn't even know this guy's name, but all he knew in that moment was that he hated him. Just something about the way he was standing there, the look on his face, it just made Artegor want to punch him.

"I'm Aarch and this is my brother, Norata." He gestured and Artegor noticed for the first time the boy standing several paces behind Aarch. "We just got here."

"Well that much is obvious," their teacher intoned, clearly irritated with this Aarch for having disturbed his class. "Since you are already standing up, you can demonstrate for the class."

Artegor inhaled sharply, unconsciously leaning forward as if to better see what Aarch would do next. It wasn't fair of the instructor to ask that of him when he had only just arrived, Artegor knew that, but he still found himself overtaken with a strange sense of anticipation.

Aarch smiled, seeming completely unselfconscious despite the situation. "What am I demonstrating?" Artegor could swear he could hear an undertone of subversive cockiness in his voice, like he was being purposefully irritating with his oblivious demeanour.

The teacher pointed to a crystal paperweight on his desk. "Levitate that, holding it in the air for a minute before putting it gently down on the desk."

"No problem."

Aarch closed his eyes for a second; summoning the power he needed; the magick surrounding his fingertips. His magick was blue; all magick in the country of Akillian was blue. But Artegor had never seen a brighter or purer blue in his life. His own magick was of a far dingier shade with streaks of grey running all the way through it. There were all sorts of theories about what the colours meant but as far as Artegor could tell there was no definitive answer yet.

Aarch levitated the paperweight with ease, holding it there for a moment, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'satisfied?'

"Alright," the instructor said, sourly. "Now set it down on the desk."

Aarch carelessly gestured for it to move over in the direction of the desk, sending it flying before anyone knew what was happening, the crystal shattering against the wall with an almighty smash. Everyone winced.

"Clearly you need to work on your control." The teacher's tone was smug and self-satisfied- of course it was, everything had gone exactly as he had hoped it would.

"That's what I'm here for, sir." There was no sarcasm in Aarch's voice now, merely determination. He sat down on a spare seat and Norata hesitantly did the same.

The rest of the lesson passed without incident; the same could not be said about the next few weeks.

**That's it for this chapter; the next one should be soon-ish now that I've got some of my coursework out of the way. Review please; reviews make my day!**


	3. Chapter 3: Collection

The Sour Side

Chapter 3: Collection

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money off this fanfiction.**

He may not have had a reason to hate Aarch at first but the more he got to know him (and by got to know him, he meant watching his behaviour from a relatively safe distance) the more reasons he collected- like little black marks to put against his name.

Arrogance- that sin had been clear from the get go and Artegor saw nothing to prove him wrong. Aarch strutted around the halls like he owned the place, always backed up by his faithful followers.

Aarch was popular in a sense, not amongst the in-crowd who scorned him for being a _scholarship boy, _but he had almost instantaneously drawn to him a group made up those previously un-united fringe elements. There was Norata, of course, Aarch's faithful shadow; Adium (who seemed to be Aarch's new best friend), an ambitious student Artegor had always had a grudging respect for (despite the fact he had never been able to comprehend why someone would be so interested in Magickal Law of all things); there were others too, like Maya, the most hardcore prophet the Academy had. It seemed like all Aarch had to do was to say a few words, give a boyish grin, and people would just fall under his spell. Artegor had seen it in action and he wasn't convinced it wasn't some kind of magick.

To call Aarch an attention seeker would probably be an understatement in Artegor's opinion- Aarch had only been there for a short period of time and already Artegor felt that he knew more about Aarch than anyone else at the Academy, all without ever having to speak to him- everyone was always talking about him, even those that turned their noses up at him couldn't help but share the latest titbit (and Artegor couldn't help but overhear).

Aarch was seventeen, he'd had to wait a year to come because his father had only begrudgingly allowed him to enter the Academy on the condition that he wait a year so that he could go at the same time as his younger brother (something to do with looking after him). Before he'd come to the Academy he'd worked on his father's farm; apparently his father hadn't been too happy about losing two able young farm labourers. Artegor never noticed that he'd never heard anything about Aarch's mother.

It didn't take long before Artegor realised that he could add flirtatiousness to the list of flaws- at first it seemed like he had something serious going with Adium but the longer he watched, the more Artegor realised that Aarch's attention seemed to flit about. His smile was always on at full blast, ever ready to slip a compliment smoothly into the conversation, charm leaking out of him in a way that Artegor frankly found almost repulsive.

He found mentally adding to the list started to consume much of his waking hours, he found himself adding increasing numbers of stupid little things, like the way that Aarch help his books loosely enough that that they always looked poised to slip out of his hands (but they never did). Or the fact that he somehow managed to sit in such a manner that he took up more space than everyone else. It was almost like a challenge, finding something new to put on the list; it was almost…well…fun.

The rest of his life was pretty much the same: get up early, go to class, stay up at night reading until his eyes blurred, get a few hours sleep, get up and start it all over again. What little sleep he did get was not untroubled, shadows flitted amongst his dreams- but he could never quite remember exactly what he had dreamed of, like he was seeing something in the corner of his eye but never being able to turn around to face it head on. One night he could have sworn he felt something hovering just above his bed, he bolted up awake but there was nothing there but his nose was bleeding.

Oddly enough, hating Aarch gave him something to look forward too- a little light relief amongst all the responsibilities and nightmares. He never spoke to him, they'd passed each other occasionally but most of the time Artegor would just observe from a distance, there was just something so simple about hating someone you never had to come into direct contact with.

Sometimes he remembered that he wasn't invisible, that Aarch might have noticed him- he wondered about that sometimes, what did Aarch think of him? Did Aarch think of him? The thought made him feel oddly panicked but somehow reassuring himself that Aarch probably couldn't even remember his name didn't make him feel much better either.

It was a perfectly normal day when things changed. Artegor was sitting in his usual corner in the library, reading a dry book on the function of physical location in healing magick- normal (and boring) enough. A shadow appeared over the pages, causing Artegor to look up in annoyance at whomever it was who was blocking his light.

He found himself staring up at Aarch.

"Can I sit down?" Aarch asked, not waiting for an answer. Artegor just carried on staring, finding it hard to find the words to speak.

"So," Aarch continued, unfazed. "I'm working on a project and I think you're the perfect person to help me out."

"What's the project?" Artegor found himself asking, despite himself; none of this even felt real to him.

A smile came to Aarch's face. "I hoped you'd ask that."

Artegor was left with a sinking feeling that he had just been collected.

**That's it for this chapter; sorry for it being so much later than I said it would be- as ever I underestimate how much other stuff I have to do. I should probably also say that the way that Artegor views Aarch in this chapter (and what he perceives his flaws to be) does not represent my view on the character, just in case that wasn't clear. Reviews are always much appreciated!**


End file.
